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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26584927">Lies We Tell Ourselves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieNoctem/pseuds/KatieNoctem'>KatieNoctem</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mystic Messenger (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Happy Ending, Mild Angst, introspective piece, mild spoilers for Sevens route I guess, threat of violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:41:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,423</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26584927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieNoctem/pseuds/KatieNoctem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A somewhat introspective piece I wrote a while ago while playing Seven's route. Set during the time in the apartment between Seven's arrival and the Meowy incident, so possibly mild spoilers for that. Just a lot of feelings and sadness, with a happy end.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>707 | Choi Luciel/Main Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lies We Tell Ourselves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When he first arrived at the apartment she had seemed so happy, despite the perilous situation she was in. There was a brightness in her eyes that broke his heart. It only got worse when the brightness faded to sorrow and worse than that, worry, after everything that transpired with Saeran. Every fibre of his being wanted to hold her, to wrap her in his warmth until all that worry melted away. But he couldn't. He couldn't hold her, couldn't be close to her. Vanderwood's words played through his mind on repeat. They'd use her to hurt him. They'd kill her, or worse. Especially now. He had run out on a job to save her. A job for a dangerous client he was already behind on. And worse, the agency would probably send Vanderwood after him now. He couldn't call them a friend, not really, but a small part of him had </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted to.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Had wanted it so badly, after all they had been through, after the Boiler Room Incident. But Vanderwood wouldn't see things like that, not if their life was on the line as well. Maybe she would have been safer with the bomb. Maybe it would have been a mercy. He could do this and leave. Vanderwood might never find this place. He allowed himself that one tiny hope. So he worked, pushed down all the feelings threatening to choke him as he pulled apart and reworked the code, as he pushed her away. 'She will be safe this way.' He told himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn't prepared for how she reacted to his pushing. He expected anger, pain, he had even been prepared for her to try and throw herself at him, try to change his mind. He was not prepared for her quiet acceptance and unwavering faith in him. He knew she was hurting, saw the flashes of it in her face when he snapped at her, so fast that he might not have noticed if he wasn't so well trained at reading people. But she always had a warm smile for him, and after that first day of finding the boundaries she didn't push or try to cajole him into talking to her, only occasionally to try and convince him to shower or eat. It was always gentle, a quiet suggestion he might want to take a break to clear his head, a plate of something left near him. She left him alone otherwise, curled herself up in a chair with a blanket and a book and the app open on her phone. He checked the logs occasionally, even though it broke his heart to see her there with all her trust in him when it was all his fault she was in so much danger. He watched her soothe the others anger, their distress and worry, as if she was some kind of angel. She took her phone calls in the bedroom. At first he thought she was hiding something from him, but when he challenged her she just told him she was trying not to disturb his work. She left the bedroom door ajar when she took calls after that, allowing him to listen if it worried him without disturbing the peace of his newly appointed workspace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He told himself to ignore her. It worked at first, for all of a few hours. As hard as he tried to block her out he couldn't. He couldn't keep her out of his head, couldn't ignore the way her smile no longer reached her eyes or how sometimes she'd come back from a long shower with red, puffy eyes. She was trying to hide her own sadness from him, he wasn't sure whether it was for his sake or hers, but he suspected the former. He looked into the chat room for clues but found none, just her defending him as always, the calm positive facade only slipping ever so slightly from time to time. He heard her voice wobble on a call once, she was talking to Zen he discovered later (and why couldn't she just fall for the handsome actor like everyone else?), but he'd said something that cracked the front she was putting up. She'd taken a long shower afterwards, and her voice had still been a little hoarse when she let him know she was going to bed several hours later. Even if she didn't sign off the messenger and actually sleep for a good few hours after that. He tried to ignore all the memories that flooded his mind after she went to bed, and failed. He glanced back towards the hallway, trying not to picture the way she had smiled and waved at the cameras every time she passed after he said he'd be watching over her, how she had joked about a special show and always been right there with his jokes. But those memories brought forth others, like the night she had made a nest of blankets and slept in the hallway because she 'didn't want to be alone '. He realised then that she had been crying in the shower even before he was here, and maybe the facade had always been there. He sneaks into her room that night, talking to her in her sleep to tell her all the things she can never hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t sleep for long, taking up space on the couch again a few hours later, still wrapped in blankets. She leaves him some water, it’s too early for anything else (or late? How do you really define the hours between midnight and ‘morning’). She dozes off again some time before what could be called a reasonable hour for breakfast, the pages of her book stopped turning and he heard a soft snuffling sound. He couldn’t help but smile at that, even angels snored apparently. Satisfied she was safe he returned to his work, headphones around his neck as he typed. Somewhere, between endless lines of code, he thought he heard his name. It sounded too soft for her to be trying to get his attention but his head snapped up regardless, turning to look at her. She wasn’t looking at him, seemed to still be sleeping as far as he could tell, but occasionally her mouth moved forming words too quiet to hear. It’s enough to make him pause in his work, fascinated, he didn’t know she talked in her sleep. She hadn’t been when he went in earlier. Maybe it’s a nightmare, but her face is too soft for that.<br/></span>
  <span>“It’s okay, just let me die.”<br/></span>
  <span>He freezes, eyes wide and staring. He’s pretty sure he heard his heart break and there’s nothing he can do but sit and stare at her, fighting the urge to go to her, to hold her. Eventually she stirs, shifting in the blanket and breaking the spell. He turns back to his coding and tries to forget. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span>It all comes to a head after he breaks Meowy. He hadn’t meant to, and the sight of all the pieces on the floor is almost enough to break him. He had made it for her, made it so she’d remember him when he disappeared, his mark on the world, on her. But things were so complicated now and it had kept reminding him that he liked her (loved her, he realised now) and he just couldn’t take it. He expected her to be scared of him after that, with his bitterness and shouts and the broken cat pieces in front of him. She isn’t, because of course she isn’t, the kind-hearted idiot. She just sits on the floor next to him and asks if she can fix it. She barely flinches when he snaps at her, just gives him a heartbreaking smile, face softening when he says he’s depressed all the time. There’s something in her eyes when he says that that hurts him even more, makes him hate himself more than he ever did before. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>understanding</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a sense of familiarity as if she’s been there too. Maybe still is. The damn breaks when she hugs him from behind, the first time she’s really touched him since Saeran left. His cheeks feel wet and he’s glad she can’t see his face, even as she pours out all of the emotion and affection and acceptance she’s been holding in. And still, even in the midst of all her feelings, she gives him time. He accepts, even if he doesn’t need it, he knows he’s loved her for days now. </span>
</p>
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